


Banana Split

by BlueColoredDreams



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, PWsomeP, Riding, Rimming, There are bad puns: See title, There is a banana involved, Unequal sex drives, foodplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 16:37:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4753382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueColoredDreams/pseuds/BlueColoredDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tadashi likes sex.<br/>Kei likes dessert. </p>
<p>There isn't any reason why the two things have to be mutually exclusive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Banana Split

**Author's Note:**

> This is the ultimate result of being shown [this post](http://bumbakvetch.tumblr.com/post/125575172412) and being told "imagine your OTP" on Skype, which immediately spiraled out of control onto full on foodplay hc's which spiraled into being shown that one image of Chris Evans with a banana in his butt and I was like "ok I have to write this". SO BASICALLY THIS IS FOR YOU, MT. 
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> (There's actually a little plot involved, I am so proud of me)

It isn’t as if he’s entirely opposed to sex with Tadashi; it’s okay. Tadashi obviously enjoys it much more than Kei does, so Kei indulges him. He likes the way Tadashi fusses over him and dotes on him before and after, and he thinks Tadashi is cutest with pink cheeks and dark eyes and hair mussed up.

Truth be told, most of the time, he just likes the build-up— the foreplay: kissing and touching and hushed voices and the warmth of Tadashi’s hands on him—far more than he actually likes the actual act itself.

There’s not much he likes about the awkward positions, being spread wide on his back or having his face pushed down onto the mattress, or the dull soreness that lasts after (Tadashi never quite controls himself as much as he thinks he does). He doesn’t dislike it so much that he feels the need to tell Tadashi—there are times where he enjoys it and wants it just as badly as Tadashi does. But, most of the time, he’d rather be doing something else.

Like now.

Tadashi has him bent over, his hands pressed into the mattress by Tadashi’s weight. His muscles strain and ache with every rough thrust forward, and although it’s physically pleasurable, it’s just not enough to keep his mind from wandering.

There’s cake in the refrigerator. A large, three layered one; it’s actually a shortcake. The strawberries on it are the perfect shade of red and the cream looks fluffier than clouds.

He wants to have a slice. He’d gotten it from the coffee shop next door to the used bookstore he works at: Both stores are owned by the same person, so he gets discounts and the girl behind the counter routinely gives him free slices. (Tadashi scolded him for leading the poor girl on, but he’d never said anything more than a please and thank you after his orders. It’s not his fault that Japanese men aren’t supposed to enjoy sweets, so the only logical reason he’d be going and buying them was to flirt.) He’d bought the entire thing during his lunch break. He picked it up after his shift, carted it carefully home, and slid it into the fridge, only to have been lured away from dessert by Tadashi coming up behind him as he loaded the dishwasher, hips pressed close and lips teasing the nape of his neck after dinner.

If that’s all sex ever was, Kei could enjoy it much more, he thinks. It’s easier to focus on fleeting fluttering touches and kisses than this singular attention.

He’s hungry again, but Tadashi’s switched up the pace again, rocking slow, face buried against the crook of his neck. He likes this a bit better; he tips his head slightly to rest his jaw against Tadashi’s hair, giving a soft sigh of appreciation as the brunet releases the pressure on one of his hands to cup his stomach, arching him up into a languid roll of Tadashi’s hips. This is better; it’s _so_ much better. He moans softly, toes curling into the sheets as Tadashi lets the pace slow even further, dragging it out into shallow movements and grinds and Kei lets the idea of cake drop from his mind.

However, it strays right back to dessert once they’re both spent, Tadashi’s hands rubbing up his back and helping him roll over. He shakes out the numbness in his hand, where Tadashi’s weight had left bright pink imprints against white knuckles.

“I’m hungry,” he announces flatly. He lets his head fall back against the pillows, knowing better than to try to move; he’s still shaky from orgasm and he doesn’t feel like cleaning himself up anyway. Tadashi does it better, and it’s just as nice as foreplay.

Tadashi laughs as he wipes up Kei’s stomach with a pair of boxers that had been draped precariously over the side of the bed. “Food _again_ , Tsukki?” He leans forward until his hair tickles Kei’s face, pouting down at his lover. “Sometimes I think you like food more than me.”

“I like _you_ more than food,” Kei says, blinking back up at Tadashi, face not changing. He fights back the twitch of a smirk on his lips; it breaks free anyway and he’s smiling up at Tadashi.

Tadashi breathes out a laugh and lets their noses bump together. Kei lets himself nuzzle Tadashi’s cheeks for a moment, their lips barely brushing. “You can tell me, silly, when you’d rather eat than fuck,” he murmurs lazily. “I won’t mind Tsukki. I can just go jerk off in the bathroom.”

“Mmn, but I like seeing you all riled up,” Kei answers. He reaches up and tucks a lock of hair behind Tadashi’s ear before pinching the man’s nose. “Now get me cake.”

“You’re gonna eat in bed?” Tadashi chuckles, “You’ll make a mess.”

“That was _you,_ ” Kei complains.

Tadashi shrugs with a smug grin; “Actually, most of that was _you,_ ” he teases smugly.  He leans back and enjoys the sight of the flush that spreads high across Kei’s cheekbones as he taps the still-cool spot on Kei’s lower stomach where he’d previously cleaned away come. “Considering _my_ mess got caught up in the rubber.”

“Cake,” Kei whines.

Tadashi chuckles and pats Kei’s cheek softly. “All right, all right.” He wiggles back into a pair of boxers—he thinks they’re actually Kei’s, judging by how they hug a bit too tight against his butt—and wanders out to the kitchen. He finishes putting dishes into the washer and bumps it on with his hip, absently thinking about the food issue.

It isn’t anyone’s fault, really, that their libidos aren’t evenly matched. And Kei is an adult who could tell him no if he wanted to. Kei is even a very willing—if not slightly passive—participant up until the actual act of penetration; they’d discussed the whole issue to death and back and Kei never felt like he was being taken advantage of. And when he really doesn't want it, he  _does_ let Tadashi know. 

Sometimes, knowing that doesn’t make it any less frustrating for Tadashi though, because he wants Kei to enjoy it just as much as he does. He remembers Kei admitting once that he wished he enjoyed it a bit more when it wasn't him instigating it— if only there was only a way to get Kei excited over sex like he was over dessert.

Tadashi pulls the cake out of the fridge and slices a generous portion for his lover, idly tapping the cake knife against the plate after serving as he thinks.

Kei said once that it was how passive he felt while Tadashi was in him—they’d tried switching it up before, and while it had been enjoyable for both of them, Kei only very rarely asked for it. Tadashi absentmindedly scoops up a glob of crème from the edge of the plate, licking it off of his finger.

If there was a way to combine that and food… He sucks on his finger in thought before blinking in realization: Oh, it was that simple, wasn’t it?

He rubs  some of the frosting between his fingers, getting a good feel for it. It was cold and sticky, but slick, and if it was the right sort, there would be no problems… Tadashi grins to himself, gathering up the plate and a fork for Kei, mental images and plans blooming in his head.

He takes Kei the cake, handing it over with a declaration of, “There’s something I want to try; so let’s not have sex until you want it.”

He’s rewarded with a very confused look and a shrug, which is Kei-speak for ‘sure, why not’. Sure enough, Tadashi keeps to it, slowly gathering the things he needs to attempt his ‘plan’.

“Tadashi,” Kei calls one day, “Why is there a bunch of bananas in the freezer?”

Tadashi perks up and schools his face into the least guilty grin he can manage. Kei isn’t amused or fooled by it. “It’s a treat for you,” he says with a shrug. “You like banana splits, right?”

“Yes,” Kei says slowly, “But there’s no ice cream.” He says it a bit like he thinks Tadashi’s stupid; Tadashi shrugs it off.

“It’s not for now. Don’t worry about it. I’m just trying out some stuff,” Tadashi says dismissively.  

Kei’s skeptical look and even slower ‘okay’ amuses Tadashi far more than he thinks it should. Maybe it’s the idea he has that’s amusing; in any case, it makes him eager for the time where he can try it. He wonders if Kei will remember.

He probably will. It’s about dessert, after all. And if Kei wonders where, exactly, the bananas disappear to when he’s at work, he doesn’t say anything.

Despite this, Kei’s memory is impeccable as always:

He doesn’t question it when Tadashi slides off of him later that week, only grabs Tadashi’s wrists and makes him stay in the bed to finish himself rather than the bathroom, flushed face pressed against Tadashi’s neck as he watches the other’s hand. And again one early morning a few days later, when he lets Tadashi grind against him until they both finish in their pajamas, legs tangled together as they breathe in each other’s terrible morning breath, competing over who had the worst as their hips rest together, wet and sticky, afterwards.

Tadashi’s fine with this, because it gives him time to gather what he needs and it lets Kei feel comfortable enough with asking, that when the time actually comes for Kei to want it, he’ll let Tadshi know.

And he when he does let Tadashi know, it's in typical Tsukishima Kei fashion: blunt. 

When it happens, they’re snuggled up under a quilt, watching television. Kei pushes his hips up close to Tadashi’s. He rocks them once, fingers curling tight against the fabric of Tadashi’s shirt.

“Tadashi,” he mumbles, nose nudging Tadashi’s nape. “Let’s do it.”

Tadashi wiggles until Kei releases him, rolling over to face the blond. Kei’s hands immediately go to his boyfriend’s ass, slotting them together. “You sure?” Tadashi asks.

Kei looks at him, pink-cheeked and pouting lips. “Yes,” he snaps, more sullen than angry. “I’m horny and we should do it.”

Tadashi laughs and pecks a kiss to Kei’s lips. Kei chases after him, tongue slipping past his lips to Tadashi, and Tadashi indulges, swept up in the feeling of Kei kneading his ass and rubbing into him. “Okay, okay, I get it,” he laughs. “Bedroom, go.”

Kei whines in the back of his throat, obviously unhappy with the instructions. Tadashi raises an eyebrow, “We’re on the couch,” he says.

“So?”

“You _hate_ doing it on the couch,” Tadashi says slowly. He wiggles his eyebrows at Kei. 

Kei huffs through his nose but he lets go of Tadashi anyway; “We're both tall: It’s cramped. Fine, we’ll move.” He unwinds his arms from around Tadashi and sits up, waiting for the other man to roll off of the sofa.

“So what’s this thing you wanted to try?” Kei asks, reaching up to drag his fingers down Tadashi’s spine, hooking them into the elastic of his boyfriend’s sweats.

Tadashi lets Kei tug his sweatpants down, inelegantly stepping out of them, shaking his foot when the hem catches around his ankle. “You’ll find out.”

Kei huffs again and stands, cupping Tadashi’s hips with his hands. “I don’t like the secrecy,” he mumbles against Tadashi’s hair, pushing him forward with his weight.

Tadashi shuffles forwards, letting Kei walk him to their bedroom as the blond sucks and bites at his neck. He’s surprised a bit at how eagerly forward Kei’s being, but then, when Kei gets into it, he really gets into it. “It’s not a _secret_ ,” he admonished, “But it is a surprise.”

“Aren’t those the same?” Kei asks, flipping off the overhead light in their room as they pass the threshold, leaving their room in the singular illumination of a dim desk lamp.

“Maybe?” Tadashi guesses, turning to face Kei. He cups his fingers against the blond’s jaw and brings him forward in a kiss. He makes short work of pushing down Kei’s pajama flannels and boxers. Kei actually pulls his tee off himself, and inches them towards the bed, fingers skimming under Tadashi’s shirt.

Tadashi turns them around and pushes Kei forwards, making him sit heavily against the sheets. Kei leans back onto his hands, posture open; it’s obvious he thoroughly expects Tadashi to climb atop him, and not reach to the bedside nightstand and pull out a swath of black fabric.

“Glasses off, please, Tsukki,” Tadashi chimes. “I don’t want you peeking while I get the surprise ready, okay?”

Kei makes a noise under his breath that earns him a nudge against his knee.

“Don’t ‘tch’ at me,” Tadashi laughs, “Glasses, come on.”

Kei grumbles a bit and hands Tadashi his glasses. Tadashi takes them and places them on their bedside table. He opens the drawer where they keep a few odds and ends, and pulls the blind out from the back. “Okay, just to make sure you don’t peek,” he sings, tying the blind over Kei’s eyes.

He grins, admiring the way blond curls pop out around the cloth and Kei’s lips curve into a pout. “I don’t peek,” Kei complains.

“Are you sure?” Tadashi laughs, grabbing the bottle of lube from the drawer and a condom.

“Only sometimes,” Kei sighs. “What are you doing?”

“Getting your surprise ready,” Tadashi says, tapping Kei’s nose with his knuckle. “So patience, pet.”

Kei only huffs and leans back onto the sheets. “Don’t make me do it on my own,” he warns, sounding petulant.

Tadashi only laughs softly and rewards Kei with a soft kiss to the forehead. He pads over to the bathroom door, putting the lube and condom on the counter. He moves out to the kitchen and grabs the stockpile he’d gathered, and snatches a banana from the freezer. He picks one of the ones he’d put in that morning (not only has he gone through a significant amount of bananas to get this to work right, Kei’d started grabbing them to eat, much to Tadashi’s amusement).

He takes them into their bedroom, setting most of the supplies into the bathroom, but he quietly puts the two containers of syrup on the bedside table. He idly thinks that it’s good he doesn’t actually like the sheets on the bed—it may have given away too much if he’d had Kei strip the bed.

“You’re taking your time,” Kei mutters. He stretches a leg out to nudge Tadashi's bare thigh with his toes. 

Tadashi trails chilled fingers against the inside of Kei’s thigh, relishing the soft groan it earns him. “Hopefully, it’s worth it,” he murmurs. “So wait a little more.”

He slips into the bathroom and starts the preparations. If it goes well, he thinks, it’d be nice if Kei would slather cream onto him instead. It’s terribly messy, but it’s cold and damp and thick and he quite likes it.  
  
Once he’s covered in the whip, he grabs the banana and condom. This was the tricky part, but he’d gotten it down enough that he could move around without it slipping out. The hardest part, really, was to keep silent while he knelt in the tub with his fingers parting himself open. But he manages.

He pauses at the bathroom door. “Okay, Tsukki, you can take the blindfold off now.”

“Finally,” Kei huffs, pulling it off. He squints over at Tadashi, before reaching for his glasses, not quite believing what he's seeing.

Tadashi stands, and waits. He feels a bit foolish all of a sudden.

Kei continues to squint at Tadashi, feeling heat rise to his face. Tadashi’s covered his torso and hips—even his thighs—with whipped cream. There’s some on his dick, too. “…Dessert,” he says, tone slightly questioning. 

He can’t help but feel a bit amused as Tadashi nods and flushes dark red. “I thought you know, you could… eat it off of me,” Tadashi says hesitantly. Kei’s stomach flutters.

“Yeah, come here,” Kei murmurs. He watches hungrily as Tadashi moves forward. His stomach literally drops as he catches sight of Tadashi’s profile as he crawls into the bed after tossing the bottle of lube back onto the sheets. “Is… that… Is that a _banana_ in your ass?”

Tadashi kneels beside him, ears pink as Kei reaches out and tentatively touches the banana in question. “That is a banana,” Kei confirms. He pulls at it gently; Tadashi shivers as it slips until just the tip of it is inside of him. “Holy shit.”

“Careful,” Tadashi warns shakily, stomach quivering as Kei pushes it slowly back inside of him. “I don’t want it breaking up in there. It’s a pain to get it out, even with the condom.”

“I’ll eat it out,” Kei says absently, tongue darting out to lick his lips. His eyes are fixed to the point where he’s slowly moving the banana inside of Tadashi. Tadashi shakes as it moves inside of him, still very cold and slick. “Ah,” Kei murmurs, fingers trailing off of the fruit to the curve of Tadashi’s ass.

He grips soft flesh and leans forward tongue cleaning a line of whipped cream off of Tadashi’s thigh. “Look at that,” he says. He sucks a patch off of Tadashi’s hip, then focuses on marking the sticky, still-sweet flesh under his lips. “You look so good. May I eat you?”

Tadashi smirks despite feeling desperately aroused, heat burning the back of his neck, esophagus, and stomach, arousal mixing with the distinct pleasure of catching Kei's sexual interest. “Please do,” he murmurs, carding fingers through Kei’s curls. He tugs just enough to pull Kei’s chin up so he can look down into his lover’s eyes.

Kei grins at him, letting cream smear onto his chin. “Thank you for the meal, then,” he murmurs.

He keeps Tadashi pulled against him on his knees, sitting cross-legged underneath his lover. He presses his face flush to Tadashi’s quivering stomach, sucking and licking off the cream and enjoying the soft padding of fat that had settled on the other man’s stomach after they’d both quit playing intramural volleyball in university.

It gets on his face and on his fingers, cool and slightly sticky and overwhelmingly sugary. He doesn’t care; what he likes is the way Tadashi shivers and moans and urges him on with fingers in his hair. How Tadashi’s hips arch against his sternum. The feeling of his lips skimming through cream and against skin.

He leans up and sucks the cream off of a pert nipple, fingers smearing against the opposite one, pulling gently. “No cherry on top?” he murmurs.

Tadashi grinds slowly against his shoulder, breath uneven. “Not tonight,” he murmurs.

Kei gently nibbles at the nub between his flesh, grinning at the hitching cry Tadashi gives. “These are close enough, I think,” he murmurs. He leans back and purses his lips in thought, fingers drawing lines of whipped cream against Tadashi’s stomach. His finger traces the base of Tadashi’s erection,  the dessert topping making the skin slick and cool to the touch. “I think it’s time for the main course.”

“Yes, please,” Tadashi gasps.

Kei chuckles to himself and pushes Tadashi down onto his back. “I don’t think it’s quite what you think it is,” he murmurs. He reaches out and takes one of the bottles of syrup off of the dresser, uncapping it with his thumb.

Tadashi pants up at him, brows furrowing. Kei kneels between Tadashi’s thighs, mouth meeting his lover’s; he parts Tadashi’s lips with his own and runs his tongue over slick flesh before pulling away.

Tadashi groans softly, panting with an open mouth. Kei takes the opportunity to pour syrup against Tadashi’s lips, filling his mouth with it. It overflows over Tadashi’s lips, trickling lines down his chin. Kei sets the bottle aside and leans back into a kiss, eating the syrup from Tadashi’s mouth until they’re kissing again, tongues both slick and chocolate-flavored. Kei sucks on Tadashi’s tongue briefly.

He pushes Tadashi’s knees up and slides down the brunet’s body, fingers pressing into the soft inner skin of Tadashi’s thighs as Kei spreads him wide. “You were right, I do like banana splits.”

Tadashi gives a groan that isn’t entirely of pleasure, “That’s terrible,” he mutters. “I’m never doing this again. You’re awful.” He still lifts his hips up as Kei starts playing with the banana again, pushing and pulling it out in a slow, careful rhythm. Some of the chill had worn off of it, and the parts that Kei touches are sticky and soft. He presses it all the way in, until only the tip of it remains in.

Tadashi gives a warning moan, fingers in Kei’s hair. Kei smirks to himself; he keeps Tadashi’s highs pressed open with his hands as he dips forward and takes the tip of the banana into his mouth. He sucks on it a bit, pulling back just slightly, inching it out of Tadashi with his mouth until there’s a decent mouthful of the fruit.

He bites it off and chews, fingers kneading into Tadashi’s thighs. Tadashi squeaks and lifts himself onto his elbows. “Are you eating it?! For real?” he asks.

“I said I would,” Kei mumbles around another mouthful. He lifts a hand to Tadashi’s stomach and pushes him flat again. He slides his hands down to the curve of Tadashi’s cheeks and spreads them wide so he can press his mouth flush to Tadashi’s entrance. He slides his tongue into his lover’s hole, scooping out the end piece of the banana that had broken off from the rest and turned slightly mushy by Tadashi clenching himself. He sucks very slightly until he can get his teeth around the edge of the condom; he spits it out onto the sheets.

Tadashi whimpers and arches against Kei’s face as he returns to circling his tongue against his hole before pushing it back in. Kei thrusts it inside and curls it against Tadashi’s walls until Tadashi claws lines at his scalp.

He sets his chin on Tadashi’s hip and breathes for a moment; Tadashi looks down at him, eyes hazy and cheeks flushed. He grins up at his lover, fingers wandering from his ass to his hips, tongue curling out to catch a bit of the whipped cream on Tadashi’s dick.

Tadashi groans softly and pushes his hips up. Kei moves his head over him; he takes his time licking the cream off from the base up, making sure every inch of skin gets lathed with his tongue. By the time he reaches Tadashi’s tip, the other man is leaking profusely, skin salty and sweet all at once. It’s good.

Kei takes just the tip into his mouth and sucks. His hands push against Tadashi’s thrusts, but he can’t control the other’s hands. Tadashi grips his hair and pushes him down onto him.

Kei lets his jaw relax and takes as much as he can, but he still splutters around Tadashi’s erection. The hands leave his hair immediately and Kei raises his head, glaring up at Tadashi.

“Sorry,” Tadashi mumbles, chewing on his lip. “Do you need the Heimlich?” he offers, a smug grin crawling across his face as the guilt quickly wears off. 

In retaliation, Kei takes all of him back into his mouth and swallows. Tadashi’s knees come up around him and his stomach quivers against his nose, thighs pressing at his shoulders. Tadashi’s voice comes out clear as a bell and it makes Kei ache.  He pulls back and sucks one last time before slipping up Tadashi’s body, remnants of whipped cream sliding between them.

He kisses Tadashi hungrily, rubbing his hips up against the other man’s. He scoops Tadashi into his arms and rolls them over. “Sit up,” he murmurs.

Tadashi raises an eyebrow and kisses off a smear of cream from Kei’s cheek. “You really are into this,” he murmurs, a smirk spreading on his lips as he sits on Kei’s hips. He rolls his ass against Kei’s erection, giving a low moan.

Kei reaches up and spreads Tadashi’s cheeks with his hands, fingers kneading. “Yeah, well.”

“I’m glad,” Tadashi answers, picking up the previously discarded bottle of lube. He pours some onto his fingers and leans forward onto his knees, forehead pressed to Kei’s as he works his fingers into himself.

Kei holds his hips and stares up at him, stomach fluttering with each shallow moan and grunt that Tadashi utters. His breath is hot against his face and Kei can’t stand it. He tips his head back and bites gently at Tadashi’s lips; he wants to eat him right up. It’s a strange feeling.

Tadashi pulls his hand free and leans up, bracing one hand against Kei’s knee. Kei guides him down with one hand, the other holding himself steady.

Tadashi doesn’t even bother to adjust; he starts grinding and bouncing immediately. Kei doesn’t care; he pushes and pulls with each movement, bringing his lover closer.

For the first time in a while, he doesn’t think about dessert—or rather, he doesn’t think of it alone. He thinks about how sweet Tadashi’s skin tastes as he leans up to kiss him as Tadashi presses his full weight onto his hips, and how hot he is despite having had the half-frozen banana in him. How Tadashi still has chocolate sauce on his chin, mixing with saliva and sweat that Kei licks up as Tadashi moans.

How the whip melts, sticky and runny, between them and their heat. How good Tadashi’s dick tasted in his mouth, all salt and sweet and he thinks about how he wants to write his love on Tadashi’s cute stomach in chocolate sauce and gather it in his mouth off of Tadashi’s skin, then kiss him, so it becomes part of both of them. Of rolling Tadashi over and pouring syrup over his ass and eating it up, mixing the sweet taste of it with the salt and bitter of his own come inside of Tadashi. 

He wraps his fingers around Tadashi and pumps, watching the way Tadashi’s face screws up and goes red, biting his lip through his orgasm. He clenches and shudders against Kei and that’s all it takes for him to finish as well, letting Tadashi fall into his arms, where he rests, limp as Kei shivers through the aftershocks. 

Kei rubs his back, letting out a low moan of satisfaction. He presses his fingers against Tadashi’s spine, feeling each knob of it with gentle fingers. He kisses Tadashi’s forehead.

Tadashi hides his face against Kei’s neck and gives a very embarrassed sounding groan.

Kei laughs—after all of that, and _Tadashi’s_ the one embarrassed. He runs his fingers up through Tadashi’s hair. “It’s no cake,” he says lightly, teasing; “But that was good. Next time, do you think you could be strawberry flavored?”  

Tadashi punches him in the stomach. Kei thinks he sort of maybe deserves it.


End file.
